What's Your Problem
by Suzuki LT Z250
Summary: Ever felt like yelling What's your problem! at someone? Happens all the time. Organization XIII says it alot too.


Haven't done this in a while, so the format is all icky.

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It was once again Tuesday. Yes, Tuesday. The most hated day of the week where everything expected is known to have vanished and everything's slow. So, to concur on the slow-subject, we go into the Organization's Castle Oblivion Hideout's kitchen, where we see the pink-man making himself a ham sandwich.

All was quiet, except for the occasional sounds drifting from the marble counter bordered by intricate, elegant Gothic-style architecture–at least there was decor, but due to a small outburst from one Organization member, everything was obliterated except for some cabinets, the fridge, the macrowave, and partially, the sink. Marluxia worked in silence, carefully piling on the body of his meal, with aged slices of ham and ripe mayonnaise. Unbeknownst to him, however, the ham was starting to grow peach fuzz, the mayo has been invaded by Vexen's experiment–called "the Clam"–and he was being watched by none other than Larxene. He was hungry, so he didn't care.

It was a Lysol Fact-Of-Life that Larxene was a biznitch, enjoying the sadistic pleasure of putting people down, and for her amusement, she carefully toed her way behind the man. In a sweet, shrill voice she screamed, "WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM!" Instantly in a daze, the hungry man swung his arm around, only to collide with the girl's mandible; she went tumbling backwards. Meanwhile, the sandwich oozed a dreary ooze, seemingly scrumptious. Wide eyed and catching a previously lost breath, Marluxia stared behind him for a good five minutes. The other Nobody ceased any movement. Shrugging, he returned to his meal, which now started to shift colors.

Slowly, just like Tuesday, Marluxia guided the sandwich to his mouth and before biting down, a voice interrupted him.

"Why is she on the floor?"

Marluxia placed his food back on the bare, dusty counter. In the vast doorway was none other than Demyx. The blonde looked at the other blonde nought but a good step away from him. Larxene looked purple, especially on her lower jaw. It was puffy too, and starting to turn a brilliant rainbow. Demyx had seen this before: Roxas had once mutinied against Axel for some odd and pointless reason. The taller man stared down at his ham sandwich. Suddenly, the urge to eat was erased and replaced by the urge to have Demyx join Larxene.

Finally, he managed a, "I hit Larxene because I could."

"What's your problem!" Demyx replied instinctively.

"Well, what's your problem?"

"Apparently you being all psychotic and stuff!"

"At least I can handle myself."

"Lies! You were finished off before me, you pink haired baboon!"

Marluxia was now facing the musician. What to do with him? Attack him? Marluxia summoned his scythe-sickle-scythe. Demyx was in for it now.

"Marluxina! What's your problem!" a voice called out.

"Roxas!" addressed Demyx, who gleefully rounded the door and ran off into the large hall. Roxas then appeared, eying the body on the floor.

"Is she dead?"

"No, but dying."

"Zexion!" both Marluxia and Roxas chorused. The sniffer appeared in a black haze and gradually emerged from his egg-like covering. He too eyed Larxene. She was still on the floor, motionless, sprawled out. Zexion sniffed hard. And suddenly he wrinkled his nose.

"Axe."

It was he said, and all that needed to be said. Roxas understood immediately. Marluxia scowled. There was no relief today! What was wrong with Axe? The two in the doorway disagreed with the "enjoyment of the smell," even with Roxas' nose failing him. Marluxia was alone on his side, and in a flash, returned to the sandwich. It was lying there, growing ickier and ickier as time passed. After a brief inspection and humorous decision, the man chucked the thing directly at Zexion, who grimaced at the thought of Axe. Splat. Zexion was hit in the face with the sandwich.

Marluxia laughed, and Roxas moved away. Far away. He left.

Zexion, out of world of new and disgusting smells, replied, "WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!"

"What's your problem?" distant voices chorused. There was a large party of "Ow!"s "Ooh!"s and "Damnit!"s afoot. Suddenly, Axel burst from the hall and flung himself into the doorway, sending the sniffer flying elsewhere.

"WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM!" Zexion repeated.

Axel looked like he had just seen his mother, and he looked like he had just ran all of the way here. He did. All the way from the nonexistent garage. Panting, his eyes caught the sight of Larxene, now a totally new hue.

"Don't say it, Ash-mael."

"Help me and I promise never to argue with you, Marlene!"

"What?" the pink-man snided.

"No sarcasm! Help me or I'll kick your ass! I was driving Xenmas around when suddenly, Xaldin suddenly appeared in my parking space so I ran over him and then the superior dude was all like, 'WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM!' in my ear right, so I gassed it and sent my car into the wall and I was all 'WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM!' to him and then he got all 'MY PROBLEM IS IMA KILL YOU.' and then Xaldin got up and started saying 'WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM!' so now Ima ask you 'WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM!'"

"You're being redundant is what my problem is." Marluxia curtly replied.

"AXEL!"

Axel vanished into a black fountain, just like Zexion had appeared in. Xenmas had just raced toward him, an ended up passing through the aftermath of the red-head's timed exit; he kissed the wooden door frame. Nose a-bleeding and condemning aloud, the man slipped on a remaining slice of stale bread from Marluxia's meal-turned-projectile.

"WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM!" he bellowed to no one in particular.

Tired of the redundancy, Marluxia attempted to escape by teleporting, but something lay grasp onto his arm. It was a very violent hold, and onto the floor Marluxia crashed, next to him first victim. Larxene was cold. Was she dead? No. She was asleep? Maybe not? What? Exactly.

"Marluxia!"

The pinkish hairs raised on the receiver's neck. Xenmas was poised over him, ready to stomp any bit of light–corrected as "any bit of darkness" by someone–out of the pink-man.

"WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?" Marluxia finally said.

Xenmas explained the entire story that Axel had summed up, and finishing with a snarl, vanished.

Disturbed, Marluxia wormed his way into the hall. He had done a good job of sweeping the floor. Then he remembered the idea that Axel jokingly announced as everyone was dead-tired one evening. (Fighting with each other, recruiting, binging, and swatting away Sora was a tiring career.) Axel proposed that Larxene be a house wife, but then addressed Maluxia as "Maryle" and entitled him to be the one who mopped, swept, cooked, generally cleaned, and laid waste to their "husband." That night, Marluxia was opted to kill and maim the fire Nobody, in which, resulted in the kitchen being demolished.

No one was around, so he concluded. Zexion, Axel, Xenmas, Xaldin, Vexen, Demyx, and everyone else was gone. He was alone, with a motionless Nobody body. Footsteps echoed toward him. Frantically, Marluxia looked around, only to see a knee falling on top of him. It was Saix's knee. Now, Marluxia was a traffic obstruction.

"What's your problem!" the blue-haired elf snarled. Marluxia returned a glare, and with force, shot himself up onto his feet. No more "WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM!"s! No more! Marluxia ran with immense speed away from the kitchen. And. . . .

To be continued. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Maybe.


End file.
